Crook Playa Songtext
von Mr Pookie
Crook Playa Songtext
(mr. lucci)
Introducin mr. lucci, tha wig split loco
Unf**kwitable crook have yo whole gang in a choke hold
I run wit 4 niggaz that′s so cold and I'm known for gettin dirty
I smack niggaz for 30-30′s, dispersin slugs in a hurry
Cant let no nigga disturb me or interrupt me when I'm on my mission
Watchin these niggaz scurry from choppers wit clip extentions
All hataz be flinchin when I appear in they dimension
Strivin on bad intentions puttin niggaz life up on suspension
Jus ain't a normal nigga, I be that diabolical figure
Straight weeded left all dead, they braided up lookin slicker
Crooked scissorhands and tha rippla got my back down 4 whateva
I′m a 16, smokin clever, 155 a devil
Aka tha crooked rebel wit a neck full of gold and ice pebbles
All my stoneycrook brothaz stay flossed out to tha top level
Mr. lucci neva settle wit punk boyz on hate shit
Whoopin niggaz azz, quick and fast like an agent on matrix
Chorus
Who dat blowin big killa in tha back of tha club
Who dat choosin real women while deletin tha scrubs
Who dat rollin up tha cake, who′s a crook in tha place
Who dem ipsy tipsy playaz from tha lone star state
We tha cats you dunno takin ova thangz
We tha cats who don pulled akickdoe on tha game
We tha ones wit tha guns, we tha crew wit tha juice
We dem crook typed playaz boy don't let us get loose
(mr. pookie)
Open yo eyes wide playa, take notice of me
Aint no quittin while I′m rippin, no intentions to flee
Got my calvary posted now tell me, wha y'all wanna do?
Got no time for ya boastin ya think ya bad wit yo crew
Now who′s tha victim left to breath on tha mic
He cant handle me really so now he agged and wanna fight
I'm tha hype of tha party, tha ammo and a clip
Take a breather 4 I leave ya face down where you sit
And tha competition, oh they get flattin by bows
Cause we ain′t bowin down, busta think he bad cause he older
I'ma show ya, time to pick tha place up in tha check and shit
And if you ain't no dallas sho nuff to be reckoned wit
Pick a betta click wit a mass of foes (and wha?)
Let tha record show how we surpass em though
Now wha you maskin 4?
Who it is? it′s tha rippla turnin heads when I enter
Tha pookie wit tha mista
Chorus
(mr. pookie)
Now we got em lookin got em all up in our grill
We cant stop we 2 crooked, so it′s like pass me tha kill
On tha real, I'm chillin, so they betta make way
Got lucci spittin some venom, y these bustaz wanna hate?
So say wha u say and we gon do wha we do
Continue to drop platinum azz hitz by tha crew
I′m used to bein smokin on a regular basis
Refuse to be, sellin dope and catchin these cases
I choose to be, tight up on my game like a pro
Smashin on these hoes, and makin tha big doe
Behold, mr. pookie slash rippla jones
I been livin like a crook since tha day I was born
On my own homie, I spit tha game how I feel
Its time to let em all know it's about to get real
Tha deal is playa, keep yo hands off, watch that damn talk
And proceed to leave so please walk
Chorus
Introducin mr. lucci, tha wig split loco
Unf**kwitable crook have yo whole gang in a choke hold
I run wit 4 niggaz that′s so cold and I'm known for gettin dirty
I smack niggaz for 30-30′s, dispersin slugs in a hurry
Cant let no nigga disturb me or interrupt me when I'm on my mission
Watchin these niggaz scurry from choppers wit clip extentions
All hataz be flinchin when I appear in they dimension
Strivin on bad intentions puttin niggaz life up on suspension
Jus ain't a normal nigga, I be that diabolical figure
Straight weeded left all dead, they braided up lookin slicker
Crooked scissorhands and tha rippla got my back down 4 whateva
I′m a 16, smokin clever, 155 a devil
Aka tha crooked rebel wit a neck full of gold and ice pebbles
All my stoneycrook brothaz stay flossed out to tha top level
Mr. lucci neva settle wit punk boyz on hate shit
Whoopin niggaz azz, quick and fast like an agent on matrix
Chorus
Who dat blowin big killa in tha back of tha club
Who dat choosin real women while deletin tha scrubs
Who dat rollin up tha cake, who′s a crook in tha place
Who dem ipsy tipsy playaz from tha lone star state
We tha cats you dunno takin ova thangz
We tha cats who don pulled akickdoe on tha game
We tha ones wit tha guns, we tha crew wit tha juice
We dem crook typed playaz boy don't let us get loose
(mr. pookie)
Open yo eyes wide playa, take notice of me
Aint no quittin while I′m rippin, no intentions to flee
Got my calvary posted now tell me, wha y'all wanna do?
Got no time for ya boastin ya think ya bad wit yo crew
Now who′s tha victim left to breath on tha mic
He cant handle me really so now he agged and wanna fight
I'm tha hype of tha party, tha ammo and a clip
Take a breather 4 I leave ya face down where you sit
And tha competition, oh they get flattin by bows
Cause we ain′t bowin down, busta think he bad cause he older
I'ma show ya, time to pick tha place up in tha check and shit
And if you ain't no dallas sho nuff to be reckoned wit
Pick a betta click wit a mass of foes (and wha?)
Let tha record show how we surpass em though
Now wha you maskin 4?
Who it is? it′s tha rippla turnin heads when I enter
Tha pookie wit tha mista
Chorus
(mr. pookie)
Now we got em lookin got em all up in our grill
We cant stop we 2 crooked, so it′s like pass me tha kill
On tha real, I'm chillin, so they betta make way
Got lucci spittin some venom, y these bustaz wanna hate?
So say wha u say and we gon do wha we do
Continue to drop platinum azz hitz by tha crew
I′m used to bein smokin on a regular basis
Refuse to be, sellin dope and catchin these cases
I choose to be, tight up on my game like a pro
Smashin on these hoes, and makin tha big doe
Behold, mr. pookie slash rippla jones
I been livin like a crook since tha day I was born
On my own homie, I spit tha game how I feel
Its time to let em all know it's about to get real
Tha deal is playa, keep yo hands off, watch that damn talk
And proceed to leave so please walk
Chorus
Writer(s): Bryan Lawayne Jones Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
